Texas Sun - Joel Miller X F!reader - Vol. Viii

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. viii

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chapter summary: Both you and Joel feel there is no use in keeping secrets anymore. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.4k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY. References to absent/abusive parents, alcohol and marijuana mention. A little angst but mostly fluff. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: If you got notified I posted this at 3am accidentally, no you didn't. this isn’t even a long chapter but i fought with it so much because i was terrified it wouldn’t live up to the hype. Like….everything has been building to this one and I don’t know if it feels right. I love crippling self-doubt. I love being insane! I’m fine. 

-July 9, 2003-

Joel is falling in love. 

He doesn’t know it yet. That’s how love works, right? No one can really pinpoint the exact moment it happens. Most of the time, it’s recognized in hindsight.

What he does know is that you love Sarah. Do you love him? He’s not sure yet. Right now, it almost doesn’t matter. Of course you would love her first. He imagines – he knows – how easy it is to love her. So, he can’t fault you for that. And it’s all that matters. Every other relationship he’s been in has lacked this one critical element. Including his relationship with her own mother. 

Now, he feels there is no use in keeping secrets. He can trust you. He knows Sarah likes you. It all makes sense. 

But he is worried about you. It’s been a few days since the fair, and he hasn’t heard from you. He had seen something from you that so rarely surfaced. Vulnerability. As much as you had tried to hide it behind clenched fists and a sharp tongue – you had been scared. Not just in the moment, but after. Scared to show any weakness, scared to let him in. Maybe you were ashamed, and maybe he’d pushed you too far afterwards. But all he wants is for you to realize that with him, you are safe. 

Joel gets out of his truck and slams the door shut, looking over at your house out of habit. The blinds are shut, your garage closed. It’s six o’clock. He’s home earlier than usual, but he’s used to a different view. Front door hanging open, with warm light beckoning through sheer curtains. He has stood in this very spot and watched Sarah from a distance as she comes back home, the sounds of your combined laughter reaching his ears even from across the street. Where have you been? He wonders. 

Once he’s inside, he doesn’t bother getting too comfortable. Sarah’s at a pool party, and he has to pick her up within the hour. It’s not enough time for him to bother with showering, but he does make himself a peanut butter sandwich for dinner. All that’s left of the loaf is the two end pieces. He needs to go to the store. 

He sits at the kitchen table to eat. Sarah’s only gone for the day, but he wonders why his house feels so big and empty without her. For two weeks she had been away at camp, and he hadn’t felt this lonely. It takes him a moment to realize it’s because he had spent all his time with you. 

The sound of the phone ringing interrupts his sulking, and he answers without checking the caller ID. It’s probably a vendor. Another delayed shipment. “This is Joel.” 

“Hey, Joel.” It’s you. 

“Hey,” Even though you aren’t physically here, he straightens up, wipes his mouth with the paper towel he’s using as a napkin. “How’s it going?”

“I’m good,” you say, your voice sounds….light. Normal. He hears phones ringing in the background. “How are you? How is Sarah doing?”

“I’m good,” he says. “And she’s good.”

“I’m glad,” you begin. “Listen, I uh, I feel like I’ve been MIA the last few days. Work’s been crazy, I’m actually still at the office right now. But I wanted to call you….I’ve uh….I’ve missed hearing your voice.”

Joel feels his shoulders sag in relief. “I missed hearin’ yours.”

You hum softly. “Are you around this weekend? I’d like to see you.”

“I’d like that.” Joel sighs. “I’ll be around. I could make you dinner.”

You don’t answer right away. Joel strains to hear, but all he can make out is keyboards clacking faintly in the distance. “Can….can you make dinner? Like physically. Is that possible?”

Joel looks down at his half-eaten, all-crust peanut butter sandwich. It’s not a very good indicator of his abilities. Maybe you’re right. Nevertheless. “I’ll have you know, I make a mean macaroni and cheese.”

“If it’s from a box, that doesn’t count.”

‘It should, though,” Joel defends. “That’s basically all Sarah and I eat.” 

“Oh, god,” you laugh. “Have you had your blood tested for nutritional deficiencies? Because I’m concerned for your health.” 

“Yeah, actually, I have and I got an A…plus.”

The line is silent again for much longer. Joel thinks the call might’ve dropped, so he says your name. “Hello?”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Of course I’m joking.”

You giggle. “Okay, just making sure,”  you sigh, then add. “We have the same blood type.”

“Guess that’s serendipity,” Joel says. 

“Well, I think you’ve made me go soft….“ you groan. “But I’ll eat your boxed macaroni and cheese if it makes you happy.” 

“It will.” 

Joel leaves the conversation feeling reassured. Truthfully, he’s not sure what he’d call you, if someone asked. He’s never asked you to be his girlfriend, but he knew you were only seeing each other. There had been that other guy, whose name he didn’t care to remember, but Joel had asked you about him in a moment of weakness while Sarah was away at camp, and you hadn’t hesitated. There’s no one else. It’s just you. A confession whispered while you were laid bare and pliant beneath him, his hand resting lightly, but still possessively – over your throat. 

This dinner is reasonably the next step. It’ll be a good opportunity to let you know he’s going to tell Sarah. To make sure you are on the same page. And then he can sit down with her and have the talk alone. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey Dad, can I ask you something?” 

It’s later in the evening, and Joel is mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV when Sarah enters the living room from the kitchen. She stands with her hands clasped, shifting from foot to foot. Noticing her body language, he leans forward and hits the mute button. 

“Yeah, what’s going on, babygirl?” 

“Before camp….you went on a couple dates. Are you still seein’…whoever that was?”

Joel hesitates a minute. This is a conversation they’ve only ever had a handful of times before, but rarely initiated by Sarah. “Uh, yeah…sweetheart but uh….it’s been a little. We’re both busy people.” 

Sarah studies him for a moment, and it’s hard to recognize the look in her eyes. “What makes you ask?” Joel prompts. 

“Just curious,” she shrugs. “You uhm…you seem…happier. More relaxed.”

Joel’s face feels warm. “Yeah, she’s….she’s pretty great.” 

“Will I get to meet her?”

You already have, he wants to say. And he should just tell her now. Get it out of the way. But if he tells her the truth without letting you know first, it feels like it will make the already messy situation even messier. “Eventually,” he nods. 

“Cool,” His daughter smiles at him, but he sees the way her shoulders remain slumped. Sarah crosses the room to sit next to him on the couch. “Can we watch a movie?” she changes the subject.

“Sure,” Joel gets up to look at their collection of DVDs, thumbing over them and listing off some of her favorites. “Let’s see….Scooby Doo, Bend It Like Beckham, Clueless….” When she doesn’t answer right away, Joel looks over his shoulder to see her curled up,  head turned to stare out the front window. “Sarah? Any of those sound good?”

“What?” she turns back towards him. “Bend It Like Beckham? I haven’t watched that in awhile.”

Joel pulls the movie from the shelf and puts it in the DVD player. When he sits back on the couch she lies down and puts her head on his knee. He knows she’ll be out within minutes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-July 11,2003-

Standing on the front porch of Joel’s house, you realize you feel more calm in this moment than you have all week – and you haven’t even seen him yet. The prospect of spending time with him alone is enough. 

You don’t even need to fake your smile as the door wins open – it happens on its own accord. But as soon as it comes, it falls away when you are met with – 

“Sarah?” 

It’s her name, but it sort of sounds like it’s a question. You force the smile back onto your face because looking shocked is the opposite of what you want to do. Where is Joel? Are you early? Incredibly, incredibly late? Your heart rate picks up, as you rack your brain for something to say. Some kind of excuse, some kind of explanation. 

“Uhm…I uh, I was wondering if I could uh, borrow a….drill? I’m uh….assuming your dad has one, right? I have this picture….that I’m hanging.”

“Oh yeah,” Sarah nods, lets you step inside, but she only backs up a few steps, and stays facing you. Her chin tilts, giving you a once-over. It’s then you remember what you look like. You’ve styled your hair, you’ve put on makeup. She crosses her arms. ”You look pretty.”

“Oh, thanks,” you nod. “So do you.”

“Are you goin’ somewhere after you hang your picture?”

You shrug, like you don’t know what she’s getting at, and then shake your head. “Maybe.”

Her eyes narrow, but her lips curve up just a little. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” 

“I’m sorry…” you play dumb. “What?”

“My dad’s date. It’s you.”

The thing is, you’ve been so tied up in keeping the secret from Sarah, and feeling guilty about keeping the secret from her, that you haven’t really thought of what could happen when she found out. And when you did, the idea of the worst case scenario – her rejection, made you feel sick to your stomach. 

Directly in front of her, she looks at you dead-on. Everyone has a different definition of what lying is. Deflecting, dismissing, are fine in your eyes but….denying? Especially when the question being asked is so….direct? That would be lying. And sure, you’re not even above that sometimes. But you can't lie to Sarah, regardless of the consequences.

You take a deep breath. “Look, Sarah I wanted to tell you, but-”

“Oh my god, I knew it!” she punches your arm at first. You reach to quell the ache it leaves behind, but before you can, she throws her arms around your neck and squeezes you tightly. 

“Thank God it’s you.” Slowly, your arms raise to return the hug, but you’re really at a loss of words. Her voice is muffled against the shoulder of your shirt. “I’ve never wanted to be right about something so bad in my life.”

“Sarah,” you hear Joel’s voice call from upstairs, and she pulls back. “Is that you I hear downstairs? I thought Emily was supposed to pick you up a half hour ago!” 

Sarah keeps her eyes on you, grinning widely as she answers. “She’s running late.”

“Well, babygirl, I’ve gotta-” Joel’s footsteps pause on the landing, and you look up to see him staring at you both. He looks like a deer trapped in headlights, and you see his expression shift through every possible emotion – concerned, fearful, regretful, apologetic, but by the time Sarah turns to face him with her arms crossed, it’s gone blank.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Dad?”

Joel looks at you, as if you can somehow get him out of this situation. All you have to do is raise your eyebrows. She knows. He rolls his shoulders back and looks up at the ceiling, taking a deep inhale, then drops his gaze to his daughter. “I was gonna tell you soon. Probably later tonight I had to talk to-” he gestures to you, then pinches his temples. 

“I knew it,” she repeats herself.

Joel makes a skeptical face, easing the rest of the way down the stairs. “No you didn’t.” 

“No, I did,” she smiles. “I always thought you had a crush or somethin’, and then I saw the way you were looking at her last weekend, and you were so weird yesterday when I brought up the fact that you were going on dates, and you’ve kept the house way too clean, and-”

“Okay, fine!” Joel cuts her off, and you see his cheeks flush slightly, like he’s embarrassed. “You knew it. I believe you.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Sarah elbows you.

“I asked her not to,” Joel defends. “We were figuring things out.” 

She backs down, then looks between you. 

“Everything good?” Joel asks. “Everyone happy?” 

Sarah nods, then grins. “Good.” Joel wraps an arm across each of your shoulders and pulls you against his chest. Then he plants a kiss on the top of both of your heads. 

Outside, a car horn honks. 

“That’s Emily,” Sarah mumbles, her cheek smushed up against Joel’s bicep, and he loosens his grip, but still keeps you both close. “Will you be here when I get home?” Sarah asks, looking at you.

“I can be.” 

“When’s curfew?” Joel asks. A test. 

“Ten-thirty,” Sarah says confidently. 

“Good,” he says, patting her shoulder. “Have fun. We’ll see you when you get home.”

Sarah grins and gives you one more quick hug before bounding outside. Both you and Joel watch her get into the car through his screen door. You turn to him first after the car backs out of the driveway. 

“Well,” you cluck your tongue. “So much for sneaking around.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Joel covers his face with his hands and groans. “You don’t understand. I had this whole plan tonight to cook you dinner and talk to you about this. I wanted to see if it was okay before I told her but I had no idea her friend was running late and I should’ve-”

“Joel,” you interrupt.

“I just wanted to do one thing right.”

“Joel,” you repeat his name, reach out and put a hand on his arm. “Best laid plans. It’s alright. Really.” 

“You’re not mad?”

You shake your head vehemently, give him a gentle smile. He pulls you back against him and kisses you tenderly, hands on either side of your face. “I’m just glad she’s not mad,” you confess. “I thought she’d hate me once she found out.”

“I knew she wouldn’t.” He chuckles. “She loves you.”

If he had known she wouldn’t be upset, you wonder why Joel would want you to keep it a secret? What revelation did he have that suddenly made him okay with it? Maybe he’s trying to tell you something right now. Without saying it. So do I. 

Before the kiss gets too heated, Joel pulls away. You’re led into the kitchen, where he pours you both glasses of chilled white wine, and you sit at the counter, chatting with him about his day while he cooks you chicken alfredo.

“I felt like if I was going to talk to you about this….kind of serious thing, we shouldn’t be eating a meal made primarily for college students and five-year-olds,” he explains. There’s a piece of hair falling onto his forehead. You gravitate closer to him, sipping your wine and leaning back against the counter to study him carefully.  

“Dang,” you reach out, pushing his hair back away from his face. “This whole week I kept seeing traffic cones and craving boxed macaroni.”

“Well you might still get to eat it,” he laughs. “Because I have no idea how this is gonna turn out.”

“I’m sure it will be alright,” you assure him. “Thanks for taking such good care of me.” He gives you a sweet smile in response, and you relish in it – press your cheek against his shoulder, and hold it there for a moment, looking down with him at the stovetop.

It’s a milestone, of sorts. Sarah knows about you. And from everything Joel’s told you, not everyone he is with gets that privilege. Even if he’s asked you for nothing else, this means something. To him, and now to you in turn. There’s a version of yourself from not long ago that might’ve run for the hills at the implication. But you’re tired of running. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-August 14th, 2003-

You’re roused awake by the feeling of the mattress dipping beneath the weight of another body next to yours.  Being the light sleeper that you are, you get bits and pieces of the unfamiliar room you are in through bleary eyes. And it’s cold. Somewhere during the night, you'd kicked off the fluffy duvet and comforter, and now you’re completely nude underneath nothing but a sheet. 

“You still sleepin’?” It’s Joel. Even though sleep still obscures most of your base-level functioning, you recognize his low, easy drawl. He tugs on the thin layer of fabric that covers your body. Your fingers curl, fisting into the gauzy fabric tucked under your chin. 

“Please don’t,” you croak out, shivering. “I’m freezing.” 

Joel tuts lightly, and slides under the covers to join you. His skin is slightly damp against your own – he’s just gotten back from his morning run. With anyone else, you’d be disgusted, maybe even snap at them for soiling the sheets. But somehow, he smells fucking incredible like this – all salt and sweat, and so warm. 

Pressed against him, you thaw. His hand slides over the dip in your waist, paws at your thighs. “Joel,” you whisper, but it’s not at all a protest. You’re used to this, all handsy in the morning and especially after he works out. 

“I need you,” he murmurs into your ear and you feel him, already hard and grinding against the flesh of your ass.

You hum your affirmation, and that’s all it takes. Joel shifts behind you, probably pushing his shorts down, before lifting your thigh and lining himself up with your entrance. You groan at the feeling of him stretching you open. One of his hands clasps over your mouth, the other holds your hips in place as he drives himself as deep as he can go. You moan louder. 

“Shh, shh, baby,” he murmurs, voice still raspy from lust and sleep. “Don’t want to wake anyone else up.” 

Right. You aren’t alone. Tommy and Sarah’s rooms are just across the hall. The knotty pine walls of the cabin start to shift into focus. With this in mind, you do your best to stay quiet as Joel starts up a callous pace that you think for a second might be a little too aggressive, until the sound of his needy panting in your ear makes you reconsider. You can’t help yourself. 

That’s all this, being with Joel – is. You keep giving more and more of yourself over to him. You can’t stop, you don’t want to. It feels good, the surrender. However slow it may be.

Your body thrums to life before you know it, and then you’re overly sensitive and desperate in-kind, clenching around his length as he ruts into you. 

Joel’s hot mouth trails sloppy, wet kisses along your neck. “Always feels so good, pretty girl. Like you were fuckin’ made for me,” his words buzz against the shell of your ear, fall down where they break at the base of your spine, a hundred shards shattering upon impact. Whatever expletive that leaves you comes out, muffled by his palm. “Hard to stay quiet, huh?” 

It’s already too much. You’ve gotten sinfully wet within minutes. And when you grind back against him involuntarily, that pulls him farther forward. “Touch yourself, darlin’,” he commands. “Not gonna last long.” 

You can feel him throbbing, right on the brink, so you reach down to circle your clit with two fingers as Joel movements grow sloppy, and uncoordinated. The feeling of him spilling deep inside you is the catalyst for your own orgasm, and Joel manages a few more thrusts to work you through it, his grip tightening over your mouth to hold back the noise.

He doesn’t pull back right away, just strokes your hair and peppers kisses on your shoulders. You listen to his sweet nothings, and savor the thump of his heart against your back. 

“I should hire you as my personal alarm clock from now on,” you say, voice hoarse, once you catch your breath. You feel the evidence of what he’d done to you, and press your thighs together at the sensation.

Joel chuckles. “You wouldn’t have to pay me. I’d volunteer.”

“So selfless,” you quip, and he drags his nose up the middle of your back, dazed and content. “Okay,” you wriggle from his grip to sit up. If you don’t leave the bed now, you don’t think you will ever find the strength again. “I need to shower.” 

“Can I join you?”

“Sure,” you say. “But you’re not allowed to distract me.”

“We’ll see about that…” Joel tickles your waist. 

“Joel,” you say, sternly. “I have shit I want to do.”

“Oh, really?” he seems unconvinced. “You’re finding tasks on vacation?”

“I wouldn’t call them tasks,” you explain. “But Sarah and I were gonna walk to that coffee shop in town.” 

“Coffee shop? Without me?” 

“I mean….last night you and Tommy promised to make breakfast,” you ruffle his hair affectionately, and he wrinkles his nose. “So I think we’re expecting it. But I’ll bring something home for you.” 

Joel grins, and pulls you in for another kiss before letting you retreat first to the bathroom, before following after you dutifully. 

He had driven the four of you a couple hours to some wildlife reserve you’d never heard of for a long weekend before Sarah went back to school at the end of the month. It’s your first trip together, and while you were excited to get out of the suburbs, it was a far cry from the vacations you had been used to growing up, and renting out a cabin had been a compromise, instead of straight-up camping. 

Still, you make the most of it. You and Sarah walk to the lake, and lay out on towels reading books and laughing until the sun dries out your skin. Tommy tries to teach you both to fish, but you’re too grossed out to touch the nightcrawlers he buys so you can’t even bait the hook. Joel takes you hiking and Sarah nearly breaks her foot trying to climb a tree. In her defense, you tell Joel it looked very climbable. 

Sarah demands to do a photoshoot when she finds the digital camera you brought, much to Joel’s dismay. He grumbles under his breath and rolls his eyes when you pick pink wildflowers and tuck them in his curls, then behind his ears, before you and Sarah do the same for each other. You snap portraits of each other – you and Sarah, then Sarah and Joel, then Tommy and Joel, and so on. 

When you get the pictures developed, and you see the photo on the top of the stack, you nearly return them, thinking there’d been a mistake. It’s one Sarah took of you and Joel. He’s kissing your cheek, arms encircling you, and you’re laughing so hard that your eyes are closed. The woman in the photo doesn’t look like you….she’s so happy.

Each night of the trip, you take turns on dinner duty – usually something that involves a grill. And the dad in Joel cannot help but hover around whoever is the chef, giving them pointers until he ends up taking over the meal entirely. The weed you brought mysteriously disappears one night after Tommy’s leaves to ‘go for a walk’, and you make s’mores over a fire. It’s so normal.

On your last night, you lay on the hammock next to Sarah, the mosquitoes unable to penetrate the protective circle of citronella candles and incense you’ve surrounded yourselves with. The cool breeze rustling through the trees is a reprieve from the unforgiving heat and humidity of the day. You’re making progress on The Da Vinci Code, even though Sarah is reading The Hobbit and periodically interrupting you to ask questions. 

The back door slams and you hear shoes approach, crunching over gravel. “Hey girls,” Joel stands over you with his hands on his hips. He gives the hammock a push that sends it into motion, swinging back and forth gently. You laugh, but Sarah wrinkles her nose, clearly disturbed by the movement. “Room for one more?” 

“No,” Sarah lifts her arm to try to keep him from climbing beside her. “Get a chair.”

Joel huffs, but doesn’t argue, pulling up the folding chair to sit next to you both. “It’s a nice night, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you answer. Sarah puts the book closer to her face, gives a mumbled yes.

“Sarah, honey, have you enjoyed yourself?” 

“Did you not bring something to read out here?”

“No, I thought I’d come talk with you both because I was gettin’ bored all alone.” 

“Maybe you should go get your guitar,” Sarah suggests. 

“Where’d Tommy go?” you ask. 

“Met some girl who’s stayin’ two doors down,” Joel raises an eyebrow at you. 

You shake your head. “Incredible.” 

The night is loud, but ambient, crickets chirping. “It’s definitely starting to get dark earlier,” Joel observes. 

Sarah lets out a long sigh at that, shuts her book with a satisfying snap, and shifts to sit up. “I’m going inside.” 

“You don’t have to go, babygirl,” Joel reaches to steady the hammock and keep you from flipping out of it. 

“I’m tired,” she says. “And I gotta pack my stuff up.” 

“Do you want me to-”

“No, please, Dad, just…let me be.” 

Joel frowns, and he stares at her dejectedly as the door slams shut. He turns back to you. “Did I do something wrong?” 

You smirk, shake your head. “End of summer blues.” 

“Should I talk to her?”

“Maybe give her some time….check in later.” 

Joel sighs, stands from his chair, and takes Sarah’s place next to you on the hammock with incredible grace, considering the task. Smooth motherfucker, you think to yourself. 

“Tell me how you know more about parenting than I do?” he asks, rolling onto his side and propping himself on an elbow. “Sometimes I feel like you’re better at it.” 

To be fair, Sarah had been hinting at it all week, but you didn’t want to pry until she said it outright. Plus, it’s a familiar feeling. “I guess it helps that I was once a teenage girl. I used to get angsty before school started up every year.”

“How’d your dad handle it?” You realize that Joel is asking the question completely innocently, without thinking, but the second it leaves his mouth he realizes his mistake, and you can see the apology written in his features. 

It’s nothing, you shake your head. “Do you…” you trail off. “Do you want to know?”

Joel nods carefully. 

“Well,” you bite your lower lip. “He didn’t really handle it at all. I didn’t like being sent away. The one time I came to him in tears over it, he told me to quit being a crybaby and sent me to my room. So after that, I just never bothered him about it again.” 

Almost twenty years ago, but it’s like you’re there, in the dim light of your bedroom, biting on a corner of a frilly pink throw pillow and not bothering to wipe the tears that track down your cheeks and stain the embroidery. It wasn’t the first time. And it wouldn’t be the last.

“How old were you?” Joel asks. 

“I don’t know,” You pick at the corner of your book, avoiding his eyes. “Younger than Sarah. Nine or ten?” 

You wait for Joel’s expression to shift to one of pity. But it never does. There’s only something steely in his gaze. He winds an arm around your waist and brings you up against him. “I’m sorry.”  

“It’s okay,” you assure him, because it wouldn’t be opening up if you didn’t feel the need to immediately downplay everything you had said. “My brother ended up sneaking me out and taking me to get a milkshake.” 

“I’m glad he was there.”

“Me too,” you nod. “He was- is a good brother. Things are just….complicated now that we’re older.”

“I know that feeling,” Joel strokes your hair, runs his hand up the side of your waist absentmindedly. You find his quiet empathy – the space he holds for you – incredibly rewarding. That wasn’t so bad.

After the moment passes, he tugs on the collar of the flannel you’re wearing over a tank top. “This my shirt?” he asks. You nod, give a cautious smile. 

“Hope it’s okay,” you said. “I was cold. I didn’t think it’d get this cold at night.”

“It’s more than okay,” he mumbles, nosing past your hair and pressing his lips to your throat. You shiver. “You always look so pretty. But being out in nature really suits you.”

“Okay,” you say sarcastically, and don’t believe him for a second.

“You should really let me take you camping sometime. Proper camping,” he continues. 

“Joel, we talked about this,” you recall the conversations leading up to this trip. “If I am not within walking distance of an actual shower, I will die.” 

Joel laughs. “I’m not being dramatic. It would kill me.” 

“Don’t say that,” Joel scolds. “You’d be fine.”

“I’m not built like you. I’m a City Girl.”

“You’re not at all curious about the idea of having sex in a tent?”

“We have sex in a bed just fine. Why do we need to do it in a tent? Wouldn’t that just make it worse?”

“It’s a change of scenery.” 

“Okay so if that’s all it is, just hang a different picture in your room or something.”

Joel laughs again. 

“Look, I’m open minded about a lot of things, but if you took me camping, properly, out in the wilderness, you would hate me by the end of it.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Joel answers. “I bet I’d still think I’m a pretty lucky guy.” 

You roll your eyes, pick your book back up and scan the pages, none of the words hitting. “You have too much faith in me. Truly.” 

“I’m serious,” he mumbles, hand under your chin. “Look at me, just let me sweet talk you for a second, alright?” 

Sighing, you let the book fall on your chest and clasp your fingers over it, turning to face him. “You’re so good. To me, to Sarah. Even to Tommy, although that’s not very important,” he smirks at his joke, almost like his brother could hear him. Quickly, he focuses back on you. “You fit in so well, and you don’t even have to try. I’m just so….happy.” 

Joel isn’t a poet or anything, but it’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to you. And it means more since it’s from him. You give him a gentle smile. “Me too.” 

But before anything can settle, you’re made aware of the deep ache within you. All you’ve ever wanted, all your life, is to not feel like a burden. To be cared for, paid attention to, without having to do anything to earn it. Do you really deserve this? Him? Sarah? How long will it be before it gets taken away, like it always has.

You feel like a toddler. A shiny toy is being dangled in front of you, but the second you reach for it, acknowledge how much you want it, it’s pulled away. You’re so uncoordinated, you fall on your face.

“Are you with me?” Joel asks, and you realize you’ve been staring absentmindedly at your feet. You nod. “What’s on your mind?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do.” 

You scrape your top teeth together for a second. “I’m really happy. I am, Joel,” you promise him. “But for me, good things don’t usually last.”

Joel’s hand circles yours, brings it so it’s pressed against his heart. “This will.”

You chose to believe him.

------

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----

white hot forever- oneshot

a/n: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII song inspo here xoxo

-> daniel ricciardo x female! reader, no physical descriptions of reader

masterlist

warnings: reader is depicted to be uni-aged in this, so probs an age gap?, alcohol consumption

word count: 1,404 words

You're convinced that you're having a mid-life crisis.

Your friends disagree, and hope to coax you, saying "it'll get better," and your parents think you're overdramatising.

So, of course, the most logical thing you could think of doing once the Summer break came knocking at your door was to flee to a place you'd never been to. Like ever.

No family there, just some distant family friends who had offered you a place to stay on their farm during your sabatical-holiday. So, yeah. Off to the airport you were, on a long ass flight, to a family friend's house that you'd never met, and their farm which you'd never been. Sounds great.

Nevertheless, the two people who come to pick you from the airport, whos' names you learn are Joe and Grace, are perfectly welcoming and are smiles all around. They make chit-chat on the way to the farm, asking about your degree, and telling you about their family farm on the outskirts of West Australia. They tell you that they have a son too, Daniel, who's coming back home after wrapping up some work. But for now, it was just you and the happy couple.

They insist you don't have to, but you feel obliged to help around the house and on the farm too. You love the quiet serenity that the farm life brings you. You help Joe clean up around the farm, and you help Grace inside the house, whether it be in the kitchen for quiet dinner nights, or just generally tiding up around the house.

When Daniel comes into your life, he comes in like a whirlwind tornado. That's a pretty good decription of him, and his character.

At first, you're sort of nervous. Frankly speaking, if the two of you couldn't get along, your holiday would basically be ruined, and you'd have no choice to go back home, mostly because you wouldn't want to interrupt the Ricciardo's family time if Daniel didn't like you.

One morning, he comes banging on the door, and when he barged into his family home, he comes with a wide grin, a smile so wide that it looks like that it might even hurt, and you realise that he has his mom's smile.

"Daniel," he extends a hand towards your direction, "You must be Y/N. I've heard so much about you." "All good, I hope." you tease, shaking his hand in return. "Hah, no," He nudges, "No, you're the most heinous person, like, ever."

Then on, you knew that the two of you would get on just fine.

The night he comes home, Joe and Grace bring the two of you into downtown Perth for dinner.

"To a blossoming friendship," Joe offers a toast, and you and Daniel sheepishly smile at each other as the four of you clink your glasses together.

You spend the remaining few weeks of your summer break in utter bliss. Daniel's more than good company, and he's a complete gentleman.

"Come with me," he cocks his head to the side, gesturing to off-road truck, "I want to bring you somewhere." "Are you trying to kill me?" You tease him while he opens the passenger door for you, eventually making yourself comfortable. "Yep." He beams, firing the ignition and fiddling around with the radio.

The two of you stay in relative silence, with Daniel humming in the background, and you peering out the car's window, admiring the beautiful views of Perth. What you don't notice is Daniel looking at you from the driver's seat. But hey, you don't need to know that, right?

Eventually, after a decently long drive, he pulls over and parks the car. He helps you down from your seat, and holds your hand as you follow his lead. You see a beautiful beach, with white sand, clear water, and a beautiful sunset. It's only now that you notice that Daniel has a beach bag in hand, and he sets down a beach blanket for the two of you. You make yourself comfortable on the blanket as he pulls out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"Cheers." He smiles, clinking the two of your glasses together as you take a sip of the wine. He has good taste. The two of you mindlessly babble as you watch the sunset. You talk about nothing in particular, but that's what Daniel's good at. He can talk to you about anything, and not make you feel stupid, even if you're talking about the most mundane or nonsense topics. You eventually rise from the blanket, taking a walk on the shore. Daniel trails close by behind you, and you hear the shutter of a camera. "You brought it with you?" You ask him, flashing a smile as you ripple the water beneath your feet. "When do I not?" He chuckles, catching up to walk beside you. You don't answer that question, because he has a point.

Sooner or later, the two of you return to your nest of a blanket. There's still half a bottle of wine left, but as soon as the two of you finish that, Daniel reveals a bottle of whiskey concealed in his blanket, and he takes a swig. He offers you some too after he's done, and so do you.

By the end of the night, you're slightly tipsy. Daniel's a little tipsy too, but he has a pretty good tolerance, plus, someone needed to drive the two of you home.

"I like your hair." You give Daniel a slanted smile, running your fingers through his curls. "Thank you." He smiled. "I like your smile." You rest your hand on his cheek. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He runs his ringed hands through your hair, "I hope you remember this tomorrow, because I don't think I'd have half the balls to do this again," You only smile, but you run your fingers over his lips. "Can I do this?" He whispered against your lips, as the scent of his now familiar cologne invaded your senses. You only nod as he presses his lips to yours, and although the two of you have known each other for the matter of weeks, kissing him is something that comes to you easily, and you swear that you could do it forever.

That night, after Daniel drives the two of you home and you've settled him, you creep down the hallway and sneak into his room to slip under his sheets and curl into his embrace as you fall asleep in his arms.

On the days which Daniel has to attend to unspecified 'work obligations', you spend your day just... waiting for him. Before you knew him, it was never like this. You'd spend your day being productive. But it just wasn't the same without him there. You watch the door for his broad smile. His tattoed arms. His warm embrace. And when he finally, and inevitably does, he tells you, "You feel like home."

So obviously, when you have to go back to university, you're dismayed. You wish that you could stay with Daniel forever. "One more year, love," He whispers into your hair one night when you're in his arms after you've snuck into his room, "then you can come with me." "Where to?" You mumble tentatively. "Monaco, baby. My apartment." He strokes your hair, placing a kiss on the side of your forehead. "Monaco?" You question, the word sounding foreign on your tongue. You could get used to it, though. "Monaco." He promises.

So the following year, he's front row at your graduation, surely the loudest in the crowd as you walk across the stage, and of course, his camera is capturing the moment.

When you proudly present your diploma to him, he gives you a tight hug and an affectionate smooch and tells you how proud he is of you. He helps you pack up your stuff, and the next week, you're flying off to Monaco with your entire life in a few suitcases.

The apartment is stunning, and it's so... him. You don't really know how to explain it, but the windows are ceiling to floor, and it's simply stunning in its simplicity. You call it home.

Every summer, the two of you still go back to Perth, the place which started everything, and you still go back to that beach, with a bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey.

strang3lov3’s masterlist

I do not give consent for anyone to copy, plagiarize, translate, or post my work elsewhere for any reason at all. Always ask permission of writers if their work sparks inspiration, and give credit where credit is due.

One shots

The Unexpected Perks of a Flooded Apartment (dbf!joel) - while staying in Joel’s house while your apartment is being repaired, you and Joel share an unexpected moment in the shower.

Lookalike - Joel finds your dirty mag and makes you get off in front of him.

Everyday I’m Shufflin’ - Joel is horrified to find out that you cannot shuffle a deck of cards, so he teaches you in a rather unorthodox way.

A Learning Process - When it rains, it pours. Shit hits the fan the first day you’re alone with your infant son, and Joel comforts you.

Tis’ But a Scratch - Too stubborn and proud to admit your mistakes or that you may need Joel’s help sometimes, Joel decides to teach you a lesson.

For Science - Joel helps to alleviate your period cramps. You know, for science.

Sleeping Beauty - Joel realizes you’re dreaming of him and wakes you up in the best way possible (his head between your thighs)

Self-Indulgent Tendencies - (dbf!joel) Joel finds you skinny dipping in his pool, and gives you two options. He can call the cops on you or he can punish you himself. You choose the latter of the two.

Phone a Friend - a story of two assholes and how they resolved their sexual tension (alternatively, Joel is sick of hearing you masturbate night after night)

Death by Flirting - five times you made Joel blush, and when he finally did it back to you.

Cup of Sugar - (dilf!neighbor!Joel) Joel catches you rifling through his belongings when you’re frantically searching for batteries after your vibrator dies.

Joyride - (dbf!joel) when your car breaks down, Joel decides to give you one of his. He just has to make sure you can handle a stick first ;)

Have your cake and eat it too - (brat tamer!joel, mean!joel, dom!joel) when you make joel bust in his favorite pair of jeans, he makes you clean your mess.

Erotic City - adult store owner! Joel helps you learn to make yourself come

Cream (horny husband!joel x reader) Joel is insatiable. He convinces you to get it on at his aunt's house on Thanksgiving. He's also got a lot of dirty Thanksgiving jokes he thought of last year that he's been saving to annoy you.

Fighting Fair - Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Series:

Mall Rats(complete) Joel keeps track of you as you search your way through an abandoned mall. You don’t make his job easy. First stop is Victoria’s Secret Part one, part two, part three, part four, halloween special, part five part six, part seven

Thunder(boyfriends dad!Joel, complete) a hot and sexy and heartbreaking story about sleeping with Joel Miller, your boyfriend’s father. Part one, part two, part three

Brain Scramblies (complete) after sustaining a concussion, you tell Joel how you really feel about him. You don’t remember a thing the next day. Part one, part two

Updated 1/9/2024

Sweet Like Grenadine

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You love weddings. However, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. Enter Daniel Ricciardo, your knight in shining armor.

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: thought of this concept and couldn’t get Danny out of my head. He’s soooo guy you flirt with at a wedding and will probably never see again coded

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content (heavy makeout? idrk how to tag this stuff), one (1) shitty boyfriend

The table in front of you is draped with a heavy white tablecloth. At the center is a large bouquet of flowers, the number 19 stuck haphazardly in the middle of it. Not last, but certainly low on the list. You can’t blame them- you barely know the bride and groom.

You’re only here because your boyfriend is a groomsman. A plus one. You love weddings, so of course you’d agreed, but you hadn’t really considered how lonely an event like this could be. The only person you really know has been busy all day. You can’t complain, won’t complain, you know that’s why he’s here, but…

You’re sitting at a table full of strangers. It’s not exactly fun. There’s still hours left of this. Dinner hasn’t even been served, there’s still speeches and cake and dancing and honestly, you’re already exhausted. You need a drink, but the bar isn’t open yet. You need to take off your heels, but you’re pretty sure that would be frowned upon. You need to talk to your boyfriend.

He’s busy, though. He told you as much when you found him between the ceremony and the reception. There’s a pang in your chest still at the way he brushed you off, the way he told you he didn’t have time to chat. You get it, you really do. You’re not going to get upset about it.

The seat to your left has been empty since you sat down, but someone collapses into it, letting out a heavy sigh. You turn to look, hoping for some sort of familiar face or at least a friendly one, and you’re met with-

“Hi. ‘M Daniel,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake yours.

The thing is, Daniel is a familiar face, but not for any of the reasons you’d hoped for. You know Daniel because your boyfriend is obsessed with Formula 1. You try to keep up so you can take part in his conversations, but it’s never really been your thing. But you know enough to know Daniel Ricciardo.

“Yeah, I… I know,” you say, before you slap your hand over your mouth. “Shit! I’m sorry. That’s weird. S’just- my boyfriend’s a huge fan-“

You swear his face drops slightly, but he plasters that grin right back on before he says, “and you’re not a fan?”

“I’m not not a fan,” you say. “He’s just the bigger fan. Of the two of us.”

Daniel nods. You finally shake his hand. He never stops looking at you, never stops smiling. You tell him your name, and he repeats it back to you, his accented version making you smile.

“Well, is he here? I’d love to meet the bigger of the two fans,” he says. “We talking, like, box fan, industrial blower, air boat fan? How big?”

You laugh, his hand squeezing yours as you lean over the table. He’s laughing, too, then, before he lets go of your hand. You want to crawl out of your skin, want to run and hide in the bathroom, because you’re definitely making a fool of yourself, but-

“Oh, he’s busy,” you say, waving your hand in the air dismissively. “He’s one of the groomsmen, got a lot on his plate. I don’t wanna bug him. He’s the one with the sunglasses on,” you say, pointing at him at the head table.

Daniel looks where you point and quirks his brow. “Guy like that has a girl like you and you’re the one worried about bugging him?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. He collapses into a fit of laughter again, and you follow suit. You don’t know what else to do. Then he nudges your knee with his, under the table, and juts his chin towards the bar.

“D’you want a drink?” He asks.

“The bar isn’t open yet,” you say.

“So?”

“So, how are you going to get a drink?”

He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, you just watch and learn. What’re you having?”

You shrug. “A soda, I guess. I’m the designated driver for at least three of the groomsmen.”

Daniel sighs heavily. “You poor thing. You keep making me feel worse and worse for you. Alright, I’ll get you something.”

He strides his way up to the bar, which has a very obvious “Closed” sign on the countertop. There’s a single bartender behind it, and he’s cleaning glasses. You watch with entertainment as Daniel leans on the counter, exuding confidence and charm. The bartender shakes his head. Daniel counters. The man behind the bar shrugs and nods. Then he steps through a door for just a moment. When he returns, he has two drinks in his hands- one that’s obviously a beer, and one that’s bright pink. Daniel smiles, thanks the man, and walks the cups back to you.

He sets it down in front of you with a flourish before he takes a seat.

“I told you, I’m DD,” you remind him.

He nods, taking a sip of his beer before he says, “Shirley Temple.”

“Oh my god,” you say, a grin washing over your face. You pick up the cup and take a sip, sighing at the sweet taste of ginger ale and grenadine. “How did you know?”

“Everyone loves a good Shirley,” he says, elbowing you lightly. “And you can’t drink just plain soda at a wedding.”

They announce dinner shortly after that, and the waiters start bringing plates out. You’re starving, having been up early to help with last minute wedding things at your boyfriend’s request. You hadn’t had time to eat lunch. You chat with Daniel through the meal. The two of you talk about the food, about the wedding, about the decor. There are other people at the table, but they’re all incredibly boring in comparison. Daniel, on the other hand, could hold your attention forever, probably.

You sneak glances at your boyfriend, surrounded by his friends at the head table. He’d promised to sneak away as soon as he got a chance. He hasn’t even looked your way. You're trying to ignore the hurt deep in your chest. Daniel is sneaking glances at you sneaking glances at the bridal party. You’re trying to ignore that, too.

“How long have you two been dating?” Daniel asks.

“About 6 months,” you say with a smile.

It feels forced. Frankly, the last thing you want to talk about right now is your boyfriend. They’re clearing the last plates. He’s at his table, three beers in by your count, not a care in the world. He promised. Daniel opens his mouth, likely to ask another question about your boyfriend, but you speak first.

“So wait, are you here for the bride or the groom?” You ask.

“The bride,” Daniel says , a soft smile on his face. “An old family friend. I’m representing the Ricciardos.”

You smile. “That’s sweet.”

Before he can say anything in response, someone is tapping on a microphone. It’s time for the speeches. You know your boyfriend isn’t making one, which is good. He’s not exactly the best public speaker, especially when he’s been drinking. You and Daniel settle in to listen.

He sneaks away between the maid of honor and the best man, patting the back of your hand and whispering about being right back. He returns a few moments later, another beer and a Shirley Temple in his hands. You smile gratefully at him, and he waves you off. Then the next speech is starting, and you’re rolling your eyes at the way the best man talks about marriage like it’s some awful idea.

“He knows this is a wedding, yeah?” Daniel asks out of the side of his mouth, leaning towards you.

You shrug. “That one started drinking at 9am. I’m not sure he even knows what year it is right now.”

Daniel starts laughing, then. Luckily, the rest of the crowd does too- apparently, the best man has just made an extremely funny joke. Daniel is only looking at you, though, and you can’t help but laugh just because of the look on his face.

When the first dances are over and the music starts, you sink low into your seat. Your boyfriend has still not made an appearance. He definitely knows where you’re sitting, he had told you so earlier. You’re sure he’s busy, but you’d looked away for too long, talking to Daniel, and now he’s disappeared from the head table. You scan the crowd, hoping to see his face. All the while, you can feel Daniel watching you.

“We could go dance,” he suggests.

You sink lower in your seat. “I don’t really like dancing.”

That’s a lie. You love dancing, especially at weddings. You love the cheesy songs they always play, you love the atmosphere, you love watching the bride and groom have fun and getting to be a part of it. But you know how it would look if you went out on the dance floor with Daniel, and your boyfriend definitely won’t be joining you. As frustrated as you may be with your him, you don’t want to cause drama at someone else’s best day of their lives.

“I think I might try and find him,” you say, picking up your drink.

Daniel nods. “Want me to come with you?”

You look around at the rest of the table and find it empty. You shake your head and lean towards him, close enough that you almost knock your foreheads. Nobody’s watching the two of you or trying to listen anyways, but it’s more fun this way.

“He promised he’d find me before dinner,” you whisper conspiratorially. “That obviously didn’t happen. So I’m not bringing you to him as a reward for bad behavior.”

Daniel sits back in his chair and smiles at you, one brow raised. “Atta girl!”

You stand up from your chair and hope he can’t tell that your face has grown hot from that comment alone.

Even if you can’t find your boyfriend, it’s probably best that you get some space from Daniel. Through the last hour or so of your conversation, you’ve been catching yourself leaning towards him and then reminding yourself that you have a boyfriend. It’s just that he’s being so nice, and that you’re feeling so down about the whole thing. He’s comforting, which is fine. But it can’t be more than that.

You find your boyfriend at one of the bars, leaning on the counter and talking loudly with one of the other groomsmen. He’s drunk already- he should really slow down if he wants to last the night. You walk over to him, forcing a soft smile onto your face. You can’t confront him now, not in front of his friend and all the people waiting for drinks.

“Hey, babe,” you say, tapping his shoulder lightly as you walk up.

He turns. You wait for him to smile at you, but it never comes. Your stomach sinks.

“Hey,” he says, nonchalantly. “D’you need something?”

Your palms feel clammy. “Oh, no, I’m good! Just… wanted to say hi. S’been a bit.”

He nods. “Yeah. I told you I’d be busy tonight.”

His friend just stands there and listens. Your skin feels hot, and your eyes begin to sting.

“I know,” you say. “I’m not trying to bug you, I just- I was just walking by. Just. Yeah. That’s all. I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll come find you in a bit, baby,” he promises.

You don’t bother believing him this time.

Daniel doesn’t comment on your red eyes or the tear tracks on your cheeks when you return to the table. He just squeezes your arm and disappears for a moment, then comes back with yet another Shirley Temple. You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so you just take a sip of the drink instead.

“You don’t have to sit here with me,” you say to Daniel. “I’m definitely pulling down the mood.”

“Are you joking?” He says. “You’re the best thing at this party.”

You laugh, then, because the statement is so ridiculous that you can’t help it. He sounds so serious, and when you turn to look at him there’s no hint of teasing on his face. He just elbows your arm lightly again.

“Come on, we don’t have to dance but we’re not sitting here all night,” he says. “Let’s go wander.”

He stands from the table and tugs at your chair. You give in and stand up too, taking your drink from the table. You follow him as he weaves through the throngs of people. You like wandering. Wandering is a perfectly sensible thing to do with the guy you just met. At the wedding your boyfriend is a groomsman at. What else are you supposed to do, anyways?

He leads you past the dance floor, which you try not to look at forlornly. There are large glass doors at the back of the hall. He swings one open, holding it for you, waving you through with a flourish of his hand. Outside, it’s lit up with string lights. There’s a wide rolling lawn of grass, with fire pits and chairs spread out everywhere. There are lawn games, too- beanbags and horseshoes and a giant version of Jenga.

You can burn a lot of time out here. You barely even notice when Daniel slips his hand around your wrist to gently pull you with him. You should feel guilty about it. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside. But that same boyfriend has also been ignoring you all night. Daniel is just being friendly. You follow him to one of the fire pits with a smile on your face.

You and Daniel are nearly two hours into wandering when someone calls your name. You look up from where you’ve been staring at the beanbag board, trying to line up your throw just right. You’d been on the verge of winning for the first time. For an Australian, Daniel is surprisingly good at American lawn games. Frustratingly good, even.

It’s your boyfriend, calling you from the doorway of the reception hall. You sigh and drop the beanbag onto the ground near your feet. Two of the other groomsmen are hanging off of him, looking worse for the wear. One of them has something down the front of his shirt- you pray it’s not vomit.

“I think that’s my cue,” you say, nodding towards the building.

“You could always put them in a cab and hope they figure it out on their own.” Daniel says. You give him a skeptical look. “Kidding, kidding.”

“It’s tempting,” you admit.

Daniel bends over and picks up your heels from where they lay in the grass. You’d kicked them off as soon as you stepped into the soft grass outside. You slip the shoes back on and wince. Then you stick your hand out to him, palm open.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you,” you say, as he shakes your hand once more. “Thanks for not leaving me all alone.”

Daniel laughs. “I will be your ‘I-know-nobody-at-this-event-‘ partner anytime you want, sweetheart. Just give me a call. I’ll be there.”

You know what he’s trying to do. The opportunity is right there in front of you. He’s telling you to give him a call- this is where you ask for his number. But you have a boyfriend. You can justify hanging out with him, especially considering you had nothing else to do, but asking for his number feels a step too far.

You smile softly and drop his hand. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

You turn and make your way towards your boyfriend. He’s already complaining before you’re even within ten feet of him, about how he’s tired and he looked everywhere for you and how could you disappear like that? You apologize, just to quiet him down. You usher the three men inside before you turn to look at Daniel one more time.

He’s standing there, watching you, a sad smile on his face.

“Who was that guy?” Your boyfriend asks later, from the passenger seat of the car.

You look at him, at his eyes. The light is gone- he’s blacked out, there’s no way he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Daniel Ricciardo,” you say.

It’s a testament to how drunk he is that he doesn’t even react.

You get all three guys into bed, including your boyfriend. You lay down next to him, as much as you don’t want to. There’s not really anywhere else to sleep in the little hotel room, and you’re not sleeping on the floor. When you close your eyes, you can’t fall asleep, plagued by thoughts of if you’d made the right choice, unable to erase Daniel’s sad smile from your memory.

…..

You love weddings. You remind yourself of that over and over again as you pin a dress in place for the hundredth time that day. Your best friend Natalie is a bridesmaid, it’s her sister who’s getting married, and you’re here to help in any way you can. So far, that’s included safety pinning, making a run for alcohol, checking on the floral delivery, checking to make sure the groomsmen are where they’re supposed to be, and comforting a bridesmaid who was crying in the bathroom. Her boyfriend had broken up with her the night before.

“Men are shit,” you’d told her in commiseration.

By the time the ceremony rolls around, you’re relieved to have a chance to sit down. You check on the bridesmaids one last time and head into the church. The pews are packed with people, so you find a spot near the back and sit down. You sigh in relief.

The music starts playing, and you finally take a chance to look around. The pews are decorated with flowers, there’s bright light streaming through the large windows. The groom waits up front, eyes already watering. You love weddings. You say it like a mantra in your head.

As the procession starts, you scan the crowd. You know more people at this wedding, having been friends with the family for a while. You’ll at least have some company at your table. You spot a couple friends from high school, a cousin you’ve met a few times, some mutual friends who you’ll definitely have to catch up with later. And then, in the third row on the groom’s side, you see dark curly hair that looks terrifyingly familiar.

It can’t be him. That would be absolutely insane. There’s absolutely no way Daniel Ricciardo is attending a second wedding in the US, for a couple who are no more famous than the previous wedding you’d seen him at. It would make absolutely no sense. And yet, you can’t stop staring at the back of this man’s head, the slope of his shoulders beneath his dark suit. You remember that wedding, months ago, resting your hand on his shoulder for balance as you took off your heels. He’d joked about having to cut you off, holding your Shirley Temple in his hand.

When the bridal procession begins playing, everyone stands. You keep your eyes on him. He turns, and your heart skips a beat in your chest. It’s Daniel. It’s impossible, it’s irrational, but it is him. You’d recognize him anywhere.

You force yourself to look away, to turn towards the bride. She looks beautiful, perfect, the picture of elegance. The flowers in her hands, the ones you’d checked on that morning, are perfect too. You breathe a sigh of relief. She really should’ve hired a wedding coordinator. Maybe you should be a wedding coordinator.

When you go to sit back down, you sneak a glance at Daniel. He’s looking over his shoulder at you, eyes wide. You meet his gaze and your cheeks feel hot. That wide, bright grin breaks out across his face. You grin right back.

When the ceremony is over, and they’re officially Mr and Mrs, the whole wedding disperses out onto the lawn of the church. There are shuttles to take you to the reception, but everyone seems content to mingle outside in the fresh air. You’re one of the first ones out, but you’re quickly swept up in the crowd. You search for Daniel in every face that passes. You find Natalie first, though.

“Nat,” you say frantically. “Does your sister know Daniel Ricciardo?”

Her brow furrowed for a second. “What?”

“Danny Ricciardo,” you repeat, keeping your voice low. “The F1 driver. He’s here.”

“Oh,” Natalie says, brows raising. “Yeah, he’s like, friends with her fiancé- oh, her husband! Shit, I forgot that you watch that stuff- or, you… did? I can probably try and introduce you-“

“No, we- we’ve met.” You admit. She’s the first person you’re telling about this. “At that wedding like 6 months ago.”

She tilts her head at you. Her eyes go wide. She says your name in a bewildered tone.

“Are you telling me that the mystery wedding man, who you definitely should’ve dumped your boyfriend for, was fucking Danny Ricciardo?”

“Keep it down!” You shush her.

“Oh my god,” she says, a conspiratorial smirk crossing over her face. “And he’s here.”

Someone calls your name. You know that voice- it’s haunted you since you left that wedding. You turn over your shoulder as Natalie grabs your wrist and lets out a squeak.

“Danny,” you breathe, like a sigh of relief. “Hi.”

He strides up to you, handsome as ever, grinning so widely it looks like it hurts. “This is fucking insane.”

An elderly aunt glares at him. He makes an apologetic face before turning back to you and shrugging. He steps into your space, so close you can smell his cologne. He’s staring down at you through his lashes. The look in his eyes is so soft and warm that you think you’re melting.

“The bride is my best friend’s sister,” you explain, gesturing at Natalie. “This is Natalie.”

“I’m friends with the groom,” he says, reaches his hand out and shakes Natalie’s hand. “I’m Danny, nice to meet you.”

She nods, and suddenly you’re very afraid. Natalie doesn’t have much of a filter, especially in high pressure situations. Especially when she’s been forced to be prim and proper all morning.

“You must really like American weddings,” she says, and you wince. “I hear this is your second one in 6 months.”

Daniel smirks, raises his eyebrows at you. “Huh. Wonder what else you’ve heard about me.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but you shove her shoulder. “Nat, aren’t you supposed to be taking family pictures?”

She’s so busy staring at Daniel she almost doesn’t hear you. Then her eyes go wide. She swears loudly, earning a glare from the same aunt. Then she drops your wrist and takes off through the crowd.

You turn towards Daniel. “Sorry about her.”

He shakes his head. “No need. She seems sweet.”

You smile. “She is.”

“Makes sense, since she’s friends with you,” he says. “The sweetest of them all.”

You laugh, shove at his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Behind him, people are starting to get on the shuttles. He’s leaning towards you, eyes still lit up.

“I honestly can’t believe this,” he says.

“Neither can I,” you admit. “It’s.. it’s really good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you,” he echoes. “Feels like a sign, doesn’t it?”

You open your mouth to agree, to tell him what you’ve been thinking the past 6 months, but Natalie is calling your name. You and Daniel both turn to look at her, and the look on her face tells you she’s so sorry. You sigh and shrug.

“I have to go,” you tell him. “That bridal party is a mess.”

“Worse than the last one?” He asks.

“No,” you say. “And I don’t have to drive any of them home, so that’s a bonus. But I think I’ll be billing them for wedding coordinator expenses after this. Or at the very least, drinking enough at the open bar to make up for it.”

Daniel laughs. “Atta girl. Should I save you a seat on the shuttle?”

You let out a puff of air. “I’m riding over with the bridal party.”

His face falls in disappointment. “Okay. Find me when you get there, yeah? I’ll have a Shirley Temple waiting for you.”

You nod. “Make it a Dirty Shirley, would you?”

He nods eagerly and squeezes your arm.

You don’t actually make it into the reception until nearly an hour later. There’s an emergency with a groomsman’s tux, and the girl who was broken up with the night before is crying again. Nothing that can’t be fixed with safety pins and tequila, but it still takes time. You check your name on the seating chart, sigh at the sight of the name next to yours, the seat that will stay empty. You find Daniel’s seat, too, a few tables over from yours. You head there first.

Daniel is sitting, a beer in hand and a very watery Shirley Temple on the table in front of him. He’s chatting with the man sitting next to him, who looks a bit starstruck. He perks up when he sees you, reaching for your drink. You take it happily and have a sip, tasting ginger ale, grenadine, and vodka, too.

“The ice is a bit melted,” he says with a sigh. “But good news! Ian here has offered to switch seats with you.”

Ian is looking between you and Daniel, eyes wide. You’re sure he did offer, likely after Daniel had told him the whole crazy story, or at least enough to convince him. You watched him charm bartenders at the last wedding- he has a way with words. Ian starts to stand up.

“That’s really not necessary.” You say, and Daniel’s face falls. “There’s an empty seat at my table.”

He lifts his brows, grinning again. His brown eyes stare deep into your own. He stands up without waiting another moment, handing you your drink and holding his own.

“Ian, nice meeting you,” he says. “I’ll still get you those paddock passes,” he promises, and you bite back a laugh. “See ya ‘round, mate.”

He follows you to your table. There’s a setting with your name on a little card, and the empty setting next to it with another name on it. You grab that card and crumple it in your hand, shoving it into your purse. He quirks a brow but sits down anyways as you greet the others at your table- cousins of the bride and friends who you’ve met a few times.

“So. How’ve things been?” You ask, and he launches into a story that has you listening with every bone in your body.

Somehow, the two of you make it all the way through dinner and speeches and the first dance before the subject of your boyfriend even comes up. You wonder if he’s been waiting to broach it. You’ve been waiting for the right moment.

He nods towards the dance floor. “You have to promise me you’ll dance to at least one song tonight.”

You blink and shrug. “Easy. I love dancing.”

He stares at you. There’s the beginnings of another wide grin on his face.

“That is not what you said last time.”

“I lied,” you admit. “Because my boyfriend hated dancing.”

Daniel nods. “Hated. Past tense?”

“He’s not dead,” you deadpan, making him laugh. “But he’s also not my boyfriend anymore.”

Daniel’s foot nudges against yours under the table. “No?”

“No,” you say with a shrug.

Daniel nods. “Pretty girl like you, you must’ve moved on pretty quick,” he says.

His tone is light, teasing. He’s testing the waters. You shake your head and pretend you don’t see the way his shoulders sag in relief.

“I’ve sworn off dating,” you tell him. Your tone is teasing, too. “After he left me on my own at a wedding, I decided men are shit.”

You’re taunting him now. The conversation has gone from feeling each other out, from digging for information, to circling each other like sharks in the water. Your heart is beating steady in your chest. His eyes are locked on yours.

“You poor thing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Let me prove you wrong?”

The tension crackles in the air. His knee nudges against yours and you swear you’re going to combust. You down the rest of your drink in one gulp, set the glass down, and reach for his suit jacket. You run your finger down the lapel, then back up, adjusting his collar.

“I swore off men,” you repeat, leaning forwards, keeping your voice low. “But this feels like a sign, doesn’t it? Like the universe sent me back to you.”

He nods. He reaches up, captures your wrist in his hand and holds it against his chest.

“So maybe you should go get me another drink,” you suggest. “And I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”

You lean even closer, then, close enough to press your lips to his cheek. Then you stand up and walk away towards where people are beginning to gather, to where the music is loudest. You don’t turn back to see if he’s watching. You already know he is.

…..

You have a fleeting thought, later, that maybe you should’ve switched to a drink with less sugar in it at some point in the night. The grenadine feels like it’s stuck to your tongue. Danny doesn’t seem to mind the taste, though.

He’s got you up against the wall in a back hallway of the reception venue. You back is pressed to the cool surface, your arms around his neck, his hands on your hips. His lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you deeply, like he’ll never get enough. You’re feeling the same.

His knee slots between your legs, and you’re a goner. His hand slips from your hip and cups your ass, hauling you closer with ease, tilting your hips away from the wall and into his. You break away for air, gasping for it, and he moves his lips to your neck. It feels heavenly, trapped between him and the wall, his hands all over you, his lips trailing lower and lower. He reaches up and brushes the thin strap of your dress off one of your shoulders. You shove your hands under his suit jacket and press them against his toned abdomen through his shirt. He lets out a groan, the noise vibrating against your neck. You throw your head back and laugh between gasps.

You wonder if he’d have his way with you right there. You wonder if you’d let him.

There are footsteps, then, clicking their way down the hall. You scramble to push him away as someone rounds the corner, but you know it’s painfully obvious. You turn your head, already feeling mortified, and come face to face with Natalie.

“Oh, thank god,” both you and your best friend say at the same time.

Daniel pulls away and looks between the two of you. You can’t look at him for more than a few seconds. His lips are red and puffy, his eyes half lidded. You distantly wonder if there’s beard burn on your face, if your lips are just as red. Then you start to wonder how his scruff might feel on other parts of you.

“I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Natalie says, laughing. “I heard noises, I thought…”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, and she nods in agreement.

“I’ll say,” she teases.

“Nat!” You hiss.

“You’d better take good care of her, Ricciardo,” he says, and your face grows hot all over again. “I don’t care how famous you are, I’ll fuck you up anyways.”

“Nat!” You hiss again.

“I will,” Danny promises, squeezing your hip and nodding. “I’m on a mission. Trying to prove not all men are shit.”

“Good luck,” Natalie says drily. But when she walks away, she’s smiling.

He turns back to you, and this time he places both his hands on the wall on either side of your head. You look up at him, licking your lips. You still taste the Shirley Temple, and you can taste him, too, now. He groans softly and closes his eyes. It’s nice to know you’re having an effect on him, too, nice to know you’re not the only one feeling worked up. You reach up and tug on the lapels of his jacket. You brush your lips against his jaw.

“We should have one more drink,” you tell him, humming happily. “And then you should take me to your hotel.”

He swallows. You press a kiss to the center of his throat.

“I’ve never heard a better plan in my whole life.” He says.

…..

At every wedding you go to afterwards, you order the same drink. Well, really, Danny orders them for you. You’ve thought a couple times about asking for wine or seltzer or even beer. You think it might break his heart, though. It’s a tradition now, and the pink sugary concoction will always taste like that very first night. Like bare feet in the grass, the thud of beanbags against wooden boards. Like Daniel’s laugh in the middle of the best man’s speech. Like you, alone at a table, and Daniel collapsing into the seat next to you, his hand extended to shake yours.

The same hand that’s wrapped up with yours now, resting on his knee. You never want to let go. You’re pretty sure he’d be okay with that.

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging. 

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.  

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim. 

“My entire Christmas bonus.” 

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh. 

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this. 

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work. 

“Please, Steve.” 

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours. 

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process. 

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away. 

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today. 

Javier P. 

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office. 

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with. 

Every single woman, except you. 

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner. 

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be. 

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo. 

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed. 

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk. 

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her. 

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs. 

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails. 

Red chipped paint. 

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway. 

Probably. 

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you? 

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car. 

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though. 

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap. 

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday. 

Jesus. 

You know way too much about him. 

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails. 

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette. 

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night. 

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower. 

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt. 

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes. 

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected. 

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses. 

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours. 

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt. 

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach. 

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation. 

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie. 

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier. 

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.  

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up. 

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift. 

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things. 

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away. 

Javier traded for your name? 

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting. 

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again. 

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident. 

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend. 

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.  

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people. 

Javier’s office. 

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand. 

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him. 

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult. 

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab. 

What a foolish question. 

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home. 

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall. 

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face. 

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow. 

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?  

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out. 

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends. 

“So this is about the secret Santa.” 

Of course he wouldn’t get it. 

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him. 

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first. 

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms. 

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide. 

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye. 

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night. 

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.” 

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go. 

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you. 

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole. 

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth. 

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts. 

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt. 

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment. 

Jesus you’re soaked. 

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him. 

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here. 

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock. 

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission. 

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you. 

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk. 

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time. 

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning. 

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk. 

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while. 

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin. 

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss. 

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier. 

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting. 

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

The Pilot and his Girl - complete

Series Master List

Frankie Morales in The Last of Us AU

Frankie Morales meets the love of his life and starts creating a new life for himself, her and his little daughter. But things are about to change in ways no one could've imagined with the outbreak of the cordyceps infection.

Warnings (contains spoilers)

I finally finished this monster of a fic and I've been overwhelmed by all the love it's been given! I love you all for bearing with me and reading through my monster chapters of angst, heartbreak, grief and two fools very much in love. Don't send me your therapy bills! 😅

I love hearing from you all, even if you think you're cringe or embarrassing or the fic is too old to comment on, if you like the fic, please let me know! It will make my day! Comments, reblogs or asks are always welcome! ♥

No age gap, our reader and Frankie are the same age, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions.

Chapters with ** contain smut

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 **

Chapter 6 **

Chapter 7 **

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 **

Chapter 10 - part 1 **

Chapter 10 - part 2

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13 **

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17 **

Chapter 18

Chapter 19 **

Chapter 20

Chapter 21 **

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25 **

Chapter 26 **

Chapter 27

Chapter 28 **

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32 **

Chapter 33

Chapter 34 **

Chapter 35 **

Chapter 36 **

Epilogue